The Art of Forgiveness
by SusieSunAsh
Summary: The war had ended. Things were finally settling back to normal, that is, until an unspeakable act of violence interwinds the fate of two very unlikely people. Will she ever be able to forgive him, and will he ever forgive himself? WARNING: Angst, violence, sexual assault, etc. Rated M for coming chapters


J.K. Rowling owns it all

Chapter 1

The day had started of pleasant enough, with the crisp afternoon air making it easy to stroll around Diagon Alley. Soon enough November would be brining much cooler times, and it would not be as pleasant to be about this late. Hermione strolled through the winding pathways that lead to Flourish and Blotts, stopping every once in a while to admire the latest additions to the brightly lit shops. Noting freshly packaged parcels of dittany leaves displayed in Slug and Jiggers window-shop, Hermione made a mental note to stop by before returning home to pick some up. Finally reaching her destination, she pushed opened the door of her favorite store and was greeted with the familiar trill of the bell announcing a new arrival. Hermione soaked in the sight before her. Every inch of wall space contained books of varying types, from tomes on magical theories to romantic novels. Hermione snorted as she passed the new releases table featuring the latest book by Lavender Brown, "Twenty-Signs from the Stars and What It Means for Your Love Life." Hermione's amusement was turned into distaste quickly, as it always did whenever she saw anything with Lavender's name on it. She never particularity liked the girl, and in fact had grown to hate her. Especially when Hermione and Ron's short-lived relationship had ended with her discovering Ron and Lavender in a very compromising position in Ron's flat. That had been eight months ago, and she still refused to answer any of Ron's owls.

 _Why doesn't Ronald get some **signs** from the stars and realize I don't want to speak to him _ she thought bitterly, a small frown spread on her face.

Pulling herself out of her unpleasant thoughts, Hermione made her way towards the book she had come looking for. Picking up a tome on magical plants and their healing powers, Hermione made her way to the counter. She had lost any enthusiasm she previously had to browse the store. After exchanging a quick greeting with the clerk, she payed for her package. Securing the book beneath her arm, Hermione muttered a goodbye to the patron and made her way towards the door.

What had been a crisp afternoon had turned into a chilly night. Hermione wrapped her robes around her a bit tighter as she made her way towards Slug and Jiggers. As she walked, she noted how eerily quite the night had become. Around her she could see no other witches or wizards, and an unpleasant feeling washed over her. Having lived through a war, Hermione felt on edge instantly. Although Voldemort had died, there was still rouge death eaters that had managed to escape imprisonment, and continued to commit heinous acts. She gripped her wand, which rested within her robes pocket, and hurried her pace towards the apparition point.

 _The dittany leaves could wait for another visit._

As she passed the entrance to Knockturn Alley, Hermione picked up her pace. She could see now the lone lamp post illuminating a sign indicating the designated apparition point. Still holding her wand, Hermione took another step forward before she heard the ruffle of footsteps to her left. Turning quickly, she made to pull out her wand. Her movements were cut short by the blinding light of a spell thrown her way, and suddenly all she saw was darkness.

Hermione fell to the ground with a heavy thump. A tall, heavy set man stepped out from shadows of a pitch black alley way. He was dressed in all black robes, with a hood covering his head. He pulled it down to reveal a skull-like mask with slits for eyes. A small, unpleasant chuckle escaped his mouth.

"Got you now, mudblood bitch," he whispered, in a cold, raspy voice.

He picked her wand up from the ground and pocketed it. The death eater looked down at her fallen parcel and kicked it a few feet away, making it appear as though someone dropped it on their way to the apparition point. Grabbing Hermione by her long chestnut locks, he quickly turned in place and apparated. Within a fraction of a second, no sign of Hermione Granger or her mysterious attacker remained.

... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ...

Severus Snape sat in his office at Hogwarts, scowling as he finished grading the third year Gryffindor's essays on the magical properties of wormwood. Setting down the last parchment, Snape rubbed his eyes and leaned back into his chair. He glanced at the clock hanging above his office door, noting that it was past eight o'clock already and he had missed tonight's dinner. Still scowling, he got up from his chairs and walked toward the door at the far left end of his office which led to his private rooms.

Walking into the sparsely decorated living area, Snape tossed the robes he had been wearing just a few seconds ago onto one of the two emerald armchairs placed in front of the fire. Rolling up the sleeves of his button down white shirt, he plopped down in front of the other one. On the side table next to him sat a bottle of Ogden's Old firewhiskey and soon enough Severus sat with a tumbler full of the warm amber liquid. Taking an appreciative sip of the liquid, he let the soothing warmth spread down his throat and into his body.

He stared at the flames absently, taking another mediated sip of his firewhiskey. His mind turned to today's afternoon potions class consisting of second year Slytherins and Gryffindors. The end of the war did not bring an end to the animosity between both houses, and as usual the class had started with an argument between Roger Trenchworth and William Lawson. They had been arguing about the latest quidditch match, Mr. Lawson claiming that Slytherin had somehow cheated, and that he was going to prove it. Mr. Trenchworth had a very quick comeback regarding Gryffindor's inability to lay down and take a loss, like a good little something, until Severus had quieted it all with one vehement glare in the direction of both boys.

Pouring himself a second glass, Severus glared at the fire. He never imagined he'd survive the war, and it came as a shock to him when he woke up one afternoon in mid-June on a cot in the Hogwarts infirmary. He had prepared himself to die, and was almost overcome with grief knowing he had to continue with his miserable existence. He had declined his position as headmaster to be reinstated, has opted for being the potions professor once again, and little had changed since then. Many had thought his disposition would change now that the war was over, especially after Potter had celebrated his bravery and declared him a war hero. He had received an Order of Merlin First class, which he had promptly tossed in the trash as soon as he received it. Potter continuously wrote to him, in hopes of growing a friendship, but Severus had no interest. It was humiliating enough knowing the boy had been privy to his most private, intimate thoughts and memories. To top it off, he had surely shared the memories with his two sidekicks, the half-twit wonder and know-it-all supreme. His mind shifted to the Granger girl, the little chit. He had been informed by Poppy that she was the one that had gone back to retrieve him from the floor of the shrieking shack, and upon finding him still alive had brought him to the hospital wing in the nick of time. She had tried to visit him on several occasions when he had woken up from his coma, but Severus never allowed it. He disliked the tart, even more so for saving his life. He'd wish she would have just let him die.

Scourgyfying his glass and placing it down on the side table, Severus got up and headed towards the door leading to his bedroom. Already in a foul mood, his nerves angered even more when he heard his name being called from the floo in his office. Angrily grabbing his robes and quickly tossing them on, he pulled the door leading to his office open with much more force than necessary.

Minerva's voice came in contact with his ears the closer he got to the fireplace, until he saw her face looking up at him. Even in the flames of the fire, Minerva's face was etched with a worry which Severus had not seen in over a year.

"Oh Severus, I'm so glad you heard me. I was just about to pop through if you didn't just show up. You know I wouldn't bother unless it was dire…" Her voice carried an uncharacteristic weakness to it, something Severus had never associated with the strong Scottish woman.

"It better be Minerva, if you find it suitable to bother me after hours, on a _Friday_ I might add." His own voice carried less bite that it usually did, an uncomfortable feeling settling in the pit of his stomach. Had he had too much drink tonight?

"Merlin forbid I interrupt you drinking yourself into oblivion," she replied, a bit of strength coming back into her voice, "Severus. This is of upmost importance. I'm afraid something has happened to Miss Granger."

... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ...

 **This is my first attempt at writing fan fiction. It doesn't have a beta reader, so its highly flawed. Please do enjoy it, leave me some constructive criticism please. Not to mention some reviews if you liked it! Next chapter up when I'm done writing**


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